The Final Closure
by Catherine Pugh
Summary: Eleven-year-old Will Van de Kamp finds his mother dead of a heart attack after school, and suddenly the dreams he had his whole life make sense.
1. Chapter 1

Mulder and Scully were relaxing in the backyard of their Rhode Island home. Scully had finally quit her job at the hospital and the two were living off of their savings and Mulder's sizeable inheritance money from his parents. They'd ditched the house in Virginia and decided to move to the Mulder summer house in New England. Scully loved the quiet solitude. After years of workaholism, the two had finally learned how to relax. They had also finally been pardoned by President Obama after years of being on the lam. The murder Mulder had long been accused of was solved by some blessed crew, and he had been absolved of the crime.

The two had no more to hide, nothing more to run from. Now in their late 40s, they finally had the peace and comfort they had long been searching for. But something was always missing; a deep chasm of sadness they shared. They missed their son. Scully often dreamt of him and her choked sobs would wake Mulder in the night. For years, Mulder hated walking past playgrounds. The neighbors had two little girls who often played in their yard, and Mulder and Scully loved their visits, but always there was the dull ache.

Lately, both of them had been having vivid dreams about William, or at least the essence of William. Mulder had faint visions of a little forest and feelings of pure panic. Scully dreamt of crayons and that song she used to sing to him as a baby. They talked about it, and chalked it up to having nothing else to focus on these days. Nights were harder on Mulder. Scully's dreams were more pleasant and comforting when she awoke. Mulder felt more sorrowful emotions. He hoped that wherever he was, William was okay. One thing was clear, they missed him dearly.

When they moved to Virginia, Mulder gave Scully a pretty gold locket on William's first birthday. The locket had once belonged to Samantha. On the left, was a photo of Mulder and Scully smiling at each other. They were younger, happier. Charles Scully had taken it when they first visited for Christmas, years ago now. Scully was smiling up at Mulder. Mulder loved this picture of her. On the other side was a lovely little photo of William that Monica had taken. Scully never took it off. It rested against her heart, always.

Mulder, himself, kept a photo in his wallet of the trio, sitting on Scully's old striped sofa. Mrs. Scully had taken it the morning after he came back to see William, and had even run off to the one-hour photo place nearby to make sure everyone had copies right away. In the photo, Mulder was holding him, proudly in one arm, he had his other arm around Dana. It was the only photo Mulder had of his little family the whole time he hid in New Mexico. Every night, for the past eleven years, he looked at it and said "Goodnight, William, wherever you are." The little photo went with him everywhere. They had a copy of the photo hanging over their mantle.

Nevertheless, despite the pain of losing their little boy so long ago, the former agents kept themselves amused, pursuing little pleasures in life that they had so long cast aside. Scully and Mulder had learned how to keep a charming little garden; Mulder had taken up woodworking, finally having access to his dad's old wood shop. Scully loved having plenty of time to read in her hammock by the beach. On weekends they perused flea markets and had fun finding weird little objets d'arts for their home.

-o0o-

One day, Scully got a call from Skinner. He hadn't contacted them since the move to Rhode Island, wanting them to enjoy their peace.

"Scully." His voice was urgent. "I hate to call you, but this is an emergency."

"Skinner?"

"We have had an incident. I am in Boston on assignment. Can I meet with you and Mulder this evening to discuss this?"

"Of course."

"I'll see you then."

Mulder looked up from the sawhorse to see Scully pale, hyperventilating in the doorway.

"What's wrong?"

"Skinner. He's coming over tonight. Something is wrong."

Mulder ran over to her and held her as she shook. Mulder's stomach flipped. At long last. But something must have happened. Something bad.

Suddenly the dreams started making more sense.

-o0o-

THREE WEEKS EARLIER

"Mom? MOM?"

The eleven-year-old boy had found her slumped over at the kitchen table. He'd just gotten home from school a couple of hours early – half day today. All excitement for a full afternoon of playing in the woods had evaporated in one awful moment, as his whole world exploded.

He recoiled in horror, shock, and fear. Something wasn't right in the house. He wasn't alone. His mother was dead. And he didn't know how.

He caught his breath and fled. Running as far as his lanky legs could take him. Through his woods. He knew every inch of the place – if anyone was after him, he could fool them and hide. He did it all the time. Once he realized he was safe, he set up camp, just like he'd learned in Boy Scouts. He holed up in his little secret cave, started a small fire. It was nice and dry in there. Will had kept a stash of snacks and a couple of blankets and pillows in the cave for when his mom was in one of her worse spells. That footlocker he won at the Boy Scout banquet had come in handy.

Mom.

Dead.

The words repeated over and over in his little head. He had no one left in the world. He was terrified about what would happen next. Would he get sent to one of those orphanages he always read about? Or would they place him in foster care like that weird kid in his class? Maybe he could live all by himself like the Boxcar Children did. He'd be a caveman. He could hunt squirrels or something.

Mom.

Will sobbed as fear and grief finally gripped him in full force as he thought about everything. He had a rocky relationship with Mom after Dad died. She'd fallen into a deep depression and become a heavy, nasty drinker, and Will found himself becoming more and more self-reliant, tiptoe-ing around her mood swings, hiding in his room a lot. Mom had slept on the couch a lot in the last couple of months. Kids at school didn't know. Will was afraid Child Services would come and get him, so every morning he packed his lunch, carefully tidied up the liquor bottles, and put a blanket over his passed-out mother.

Finally, now that he was safe and warm in his comfortable little cave, Will bundled up and cried himself to sleep. And he dreamt deeply, vividly.

_The dream was exactly the same every time. A pretty red-haired lady singing some weird song to him about a frog. A man with brown hair and kind eyes holding him and kissing his forehead. The red-haired lady feeding him from a bottle. The brown haired man playing with a funny puppet and making faces to get him to laugh._

This dream had followed Will his whole life. It felt more like a vivid memory than a dream, actually. He didn't know who the people were, just that they made him feel comfortable, happy, and loved. He knew he loved them, too, but he couldn't remember who they were or how he would have known them. His parents had no idea and chalked it up to something he must have seen on TV or imaginary friends.

The song the red-haired lady sang in his dream was really catchy. Once, when he was little, he sang it to himself on the living room floor while playing with Legos.

_William was a bullfrog_

_Was a good friend of mine – _

His dad had laughed and said "I don't know where you picked that up, but it's "Jeremiah." Kevin had insisted it was "William" because "that's what the lady sang." His mother had just nervously laughed it off.

- o0o -

The next morning, a pair of mountain bikers found him bundled in his little coat, his fire burning out. He awoke and told them what happened, and said that he needed to find the police.

Two hours later, he was safe and warm in the police office. A nice woman gave him a cup of hot chocolate.

"What's your name?" asked the woman.

"Will Van de Kamp."

"What school do you go to?"

"Rocky Area Elementary. I'm in 5th grade."

The police determined that Mrs. Van de Kamp had died of a massive heart attack, brought on by excessive alcoholism. At least Mrs. Van de Kamp had gone instantly, said the coroner.

The police discovered soon enough in the background check that Mrs. Van de Kamp was actually Will's adoptive mother. Mr. Van de Kamp had died several years ago in a car accident. The Van de Kamps had no extended family. The child's name had also been legally changed. Will would have to be put into foster care immediately.

To the court judge, however, the next-of-kin information for this child was the most bizarre: "Emergency Contact: Assistant Director Walter Skinner, FBI, Washington DC headquarters."

-o0o-

THREE WEEKS LATER

Skinner showed up at Mulder and Scully's at 7:00 PM sharp. He explained what happened, and that he had finally been contacted about William. He was living as Will Van de Kamp, his mother had been found dead that afternoon, the child was hiding in a hidden cave on the property in the woods.

"Does he know anything about his situation? Or us?"

"The child psychologist is working with him. He was informed about his adoption this morning. Obviously, the poor kid is suffering from serious shock."

Scully shivered as she thought about this horrible fate.

Skinner continued. "It appears that William discovered the body after school yesterday afternoon and tore off into the woods. We aren't 100% sure of the details at this time. We do know he's a very resourceful child."

Scully sat at the table, her fingers knitted together. Mulder sat next to her, his hand absently circling her back. His heart nearly stopped as his dreams began to make more sense. Woods. Terror.

_My kid seems to have inherited the old Mulder sixth sense_, he thought. _No sense in telling Scully. She's already worried sick._

Skinner handed Scully a photo of the child that had been emailed to him earlier that morning. The pair gasped when they saw Will's smiling face.

He was the spitting image of Mulder. Same nose, same hair, same thoughtful eyes. Only one thing made him stand out: he had bright red hair.

Mulder smiled sadly. _The sixth sense is not the only thing he inherited, apparently. _"Well, at least we're not going to have to go on 'Maury' to settle this. The poor kid. That's my nose."

Scully, who was crying, burst out in a chuckle despite the heavy emotion. Mulder could always diffuse an emotional situation with his weird sense of humor, and she was grateful for it. "There is no doubt," she replied. "It's our little boy."

Skinner smiled.

"Well?"

Scully got up and instinctively gave Skinner a massive bear hug and kiss on the cheek. "I don't know what to say."

Skinner smiled as he hugged her back. "Seeing the joy in your faces is enough. You don't have to say anything, Scully. Except one thing."

"What's that?"

"Do you two want your damn kid back?"

Mulder grinned, got up and gave Skinner a hug, too. "What do you think, Skin-man?"

"Don't call me that. Alright. We will set up an arrangement in the next couple of weeks. William should be placed with you within the month. I'll notify you when you will need to pick him up, once everything is settled. It should be fine for him to be with you now that the Syndicate is dissolved. Oh, by the way…I brought this, in case you wanted to celebrate." He pulled out a bottle of champagne from his bag, waved good night, and left quietly.

Scully and Mulder looked at each other in amazement, wonder, and fear.

"He'll never remember us, Mulder. What if he hates us for giving him away?"

"I'm more worried he won't like us now. Eleven is a weird age."

"I'm scared to meet him. I never thought I would, so I never thought about it, but I'm scared. He's been through so much. He must miss his mom."

"Scully, we are who we are. Soon we'll meet him, and we'll know."

"What kind of parents will we even make?"

"Well, we can start by giving our kid a place to sleep. I'll clean out Samantha's old room. You think William will like UFOs? I can hang up my poster in there. But Scully…I think you should notify your family about this."


	2. Chapter 2

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

"Did the child get a sedative, Nick?" asked the police officer. "He's quite sleep deprived." He nodded. She closed the door quietly and stepped into the hall.

The two stood outside the child's room at the local medical center. Will was sound asleep, his eyelids fluttering slightly with the activity of dreams.

"So what's the scoop on him?"

"Well – this is where it gets kind of strange. The next of kin for this child is listed as an assistant director of the FBI. Who were his biological parents?"

He scratched his head. "We just know he's adopted, but come on…the FBI don't usually get involved in teen pregnancy cases."

"Tell you the truth, he's kind of creeping me out. There's something spooky about him."

"Let's talk over a cup of coffee, off the record. My treat."

"Sure."

Later that night, they walked over to the diner. The officer was named Karen Walker. She was a good friend of Will's teacher, and had been assigned to watch over the child at the Youth Services facility until they could place him. He'd been suffering from severe nightmares over finding his mother dead. Will had not yet been told about his adoption, but his dreams had been becoming more intense since Mrs. Van de Kamp died.

Once they had ordered, the social worker, her boyfriend Nick Freed, pulled out some papers and looked them over.

"So what's so weird about this kid?" she asked. "Is he psychic or something?"

Nick recounted a strange tale. He'd thought his ears had been playing tricks on him. As the child dreamed, Nick swore he heard a faint radio playing Three Dog Night, but a really terrible cover.

"At first I just thought it was like, Marianne Faithfull doing a shitty cover or something, but it kept playing over and over again while the kid slept. I don't know how anyone could have slept through that noise. I thought I was going to go crazy. He had a smile on his face, so I guess he liked it, but I asked Mike to turn the radio down in case it woke him up."

"So what's weird about that?"

"No radio. Anywhere."

"That's messed up."

Nick nodded and continued.

"I figured it was just being really tired, but when Will was working on his homework, he started singing it, too."

"Well…I did some digging of my own," replied Karen, taking a bite of cherry pie. "It seems this child was born to two former FBI partners. The child's original name was William Kuiper Scully. The parents were involved with some highly classified government shit. It looks like maybe they got drunk one night or something and boom, had a kid."

"What happened to them? They're still alive?"

"Well, that's what is so messed up. They were missing, presumed dead for several years, then they were pardoned by Obama, resurfaced, and moved to Rhode Island. The father had been accused of murder, but then I guess they found out someone else did it or something."

"I can't even wrap my head around this. How did this kid end up at the Van de Kamps?"

"That I'm looking into. It sounds like Will was in Witness Protection or something after some attempts on his life."

"Jesus."

"And I haven't even gotten to the weird part. That government stuff the biological parents were working on? Aliens."

Nick nearly did a spit take with his coffee.

"NO. What the hell?"

"Yeah. So…they sound interesting. I guess they're retired now. I don't know if he's going back with them or what."

"Interesting? They sound batshit crazy. Does the FBI want to return the boy to them?"

"We'll find out once we contact this Skinner man."

THE NEXT AFTERNOON

YOUTH SERVICES CENTER

Will, who had just finished his homework, worked on a drawing while Nick read a _Wired_ magazine. Will was an extraordinarily talented artist for his age – nearly at the skill level of a high school senior. He'd figured out how to blend colors realistically. Earlier that afternoon he drew a picture of Nick dressed as a superhero for Nick's office.

"You didn't trace this?" Nick asked.

"No," replied Will. "I just saw it in my head."

Will really liked Nick, he was cool and didn't talk to him like a kid. Not like the others. Will was still having a hard time thinking about his mom lying dead on that table, and the social workers coming to visit him were mostly weird and asked too many questions about it. He just wanted them to go away. He started humming the song he dreamt about all the time. It was stuck in his head.

"What are you singing?" asked Nick, finally. "I keep hearing that song in your room. Is it a CD or something?"

"What's a CD?"

"Never mind. It's really catchy."

William started singing it.

_William was a bullfrog_

_Was a good friend of mine – _

"Oh yeah, I know that song," replied Nick. "I just know it as 'Jeremiah."

"Yeah, that's what Dad said, but I just say "William," that's how I know it."

"It's a good song," said Nick.

"Yeah. I have to go to the bathroom," said Will. "I'll be right back."

He left the drawing. Nick took a peek at it.

The drawing was of a redheaded lady and a brown haired man on a green and white striped sofa in a room, holding a baby. The drawing was highly detailed. There was a big brown shelf behind the sofa, a bunch of toys on the coffee table, and the man had on a black turtleneck. It was pretty extraordinary. Maybe Will had seen it on TV or something.

Will returned and nonchalantly returned to his drawing.

"This is the lady who taught me that song."

"Excuse me?"

"The lady. I dream about her sometimes. Actually I've been dreaming about her a lot since Mom died. This man is her husband. He's really nice, too. I don't know who they are. Mom said they were my imaginary friends, but they're real to me."

"You seem to picture them really vividly."

"Yeah. I know them. I just don't know how."

"I dream sometimes, but most of my dreams are about fishing."

"I dream about that too," said Will, "but mostly I dream about being in a car with the lady singing, or the man holding me. I wish I knew who they were. You like this picture?"

"It's pretty cool."

"Who's the baby?"

"It's their baby," replied Will, as if the answer was so obvious a moron could figure it out. "Anyway, you can have it if you want," replied Will. "I drew a whole bunch more. They're in my closet."

"Thanks." Nick pocketed the drawing and set the magazine on the table.

"Am I going to have to go back to that house anytime soon?"

"I'm not sure. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," replied Nick. "You'll be talking to the police at some point. They'll probably auction off the house, since you don't have any relatives."

"Good. I don't want to go back there. Except to get a few things."

Nick nodded. "I'm off shift soon. Tanya's going to be around tonight."

"I don't like Tanya much," said Will, "She wears too much perfume."

"Yeah," nodded Nick, "but she's cool. Alright, Will, I'm outta here. Thanks for the picture."

"Any time. Goodnight."


	3. Chapter 3

MEANWHILE…

Scully and Mulder threw themselves into finishing up Samantha's old room for a nice place for William. Scully was fairly pragmatic about it; the delight she'd had of selecting baby clothes and little toys during her pregnancy was long gone; an eleven year old boy would have his own tastes by now, and she'd have to respect that. She dealt with lots of kids that age at the hospital. She secretly hoped he was a little nerd. She could relate to that. Growing up, Bill used to call her names like "Dorky Dana," because she'd always run off to read a book at some point. Bill was always kind of a creep.

But she kind of loved the idea that maybe he might like "Moby Dick." Her dad would have loved that.

But in all honesty, she had no idea what William was even like at this point. Maybe he was a nice kid. Maybe he had emotional problems. Maybe he was a little asshole. Not knowing made the anxiety crawl through her, like angry spiders. All she could think about was the bizarre abilities he'd displayed as an infant, cuddled up in his little overalls in his crib. The crib and baby clothes had long since gone to Charles and his wife. All Scully had left of William was a few photos and feelings in her heart from her dreams.

Nevertheless, they painted up the room nicely. Mulder made a cool little side table and stuck some goofy objects on it. Scully found some interesting ideas online for kids' rooms, and set up a warm, inviting space. A little book nook, a cool lamp, and the best: constellation fabric she'd picked up somewhere. She made some curtains for the room. Both Mulder and Scully still had plenty of books from their childhoods, and even though it wasn't exactly video games and computers, it was a comfortable place for William to call his own, if he wanted it.

Scully called her mother that night while Mulder cleaned out the cellar.

"Hi, Mom?"

"Dana? Are you okay?"

"They've found him. They've found William. He's…going to be coming back to us."

"Oh, thank god. Thank god. I prayed for this day for so long. Oh, Dana."

Scully explained what had happened. Her mother cried, and it made Scully cry, too. But she hadn't heard her mother so overjoyed since the day she told her she was pregnant.

"How is Fox taking it?" asked Mrs. Scully.

"He's over the moon with joy," Scully said. "In fact, he's downstairs right now looking for his old bike to fix up."

"This is going to be hard for a while, Dana."

"I know, Mom. I think we'll be okay. We've been talking about the possibilities."

"Sweetie, Fox is going to be a great father. I know I never said this years ago, but I liked him the minute I met him. He's a good man. He's been like a son to me, and he worships you. I knew he would be a good father to your child. I wish you two had just gotten married first…"

"Mom…"

"But free will is your decision. You will do fine. Please come down and visit as soon as you can. I want to meet William. I want him to know his family."

"Of course. We're scared."

"I know. It's going to be fine," said Mrs. Scully. "I love you. Give my love to Fox."

"I will."

A few minutes later, Mulder came up from the basement, with a faraway look.

"Mom is excited. She sends her love," she said, noticing something in his hands.

"Scully. Look what I found in a back closet," he said quietly.

It was the Stratego game from long ago.

"Oh, Mulder." She looked at the box thoughtfully, then searched his face, unsure exactly of what he wanted to do with it.

"I know. I…yeah. I haven't seen this since that night." The twinkle in his eye returned. "But, you know, on a good note, I still remember how to play, if you ever want to have your ass kicked."

"Given that I often don't sit around wishing for that, maybe not tonight. But never underestimate me. You know that, Mulder."

Mulder put the game down and took her in his arms. He kissed the crown of her head. She buried herself into his warm chest as he circled her back with his hands. She felt tears and the throat lump forming.

"I'm scared to meet him, Mulder."

Mulder held her tighter to him.

"I'm scared, too, Scully. It's a huge adjustment for everyone, and I'm sure he's probably as scared of us as we are of him. For all we know, he might be wondering if we're mean people, or won't care about him. All we can do is be ourselves, and be kind."

"Mulder, we really don't know the first thing about parenting," she choked.

"That's bullshit, and you know it," he whispered, putting his hands to her cheeks, wiping her tears. "Sweetheart. It'll be fine." He smiled and kissed her gently. "We certainly won't be perfect parents, but we can finally be available ones. And I can't wait to finally have our son here with us. All we can reasonably hope is that we can finally give this place happy memories for someone."

"Are you unhappy here?"

"Not with you. And despite everything that happened, this is still the place where some of my happiest memories have happened. Playing 'Star Trek' with Samantha. Water skiing out there. Being out of school, finding shells out on the beach. Making love with you. Having you really, truly by my side after so many years of loving you from afar, after being apart and scared for so long. This place is finally a good home for all of us. Are you happy here?"

"Very."

"God almighty, Dana." His voice cracked. He brushed her hair from her face as he kissed her, tenderly at first, then with heated passion.

"Fox, my love." Scully kissed him back, passionately. After all these years, she still rarely called Mulder by his first name, but he certainly didn't mind her calling him "Fox" in cases like this, her voice low and throaty. Music to his ears. They fumbled upstairs to their bedroom, madly kissing, tearing off each other's clothes.

After a while, they smiled at each other, cuddled in bed.

"Well, I guess we'll have to rein in our sex life a bit with a kid in the house," Mulder mused. Scully laughed. "Oh, Dana. I haven't seen you this happy in years. You look like that young girl again who came to spy on me."

"I feel like that young girl again," she smiled. She gasped and stroked Mulder's sweaty forehead. After all this time, ever since that first crack of unbridled passion between them long ago - the night William had been conceived - Mulder had always been incredible in bed. Exhausting her, giving her immense pleasure. Likewise, Mulder always found exquisite joy within her. As if for making up for lost time, the two were completely devoted to giving each other delight.

"I know I never say this enough, but I utterly adore you," she continued, beaming. "My strength rests in your heart."

Mulder answered with a soft kiss, as the two drifted off to sleep. Before total oblivion, Mulder sang themselves to sleep.

…_Dana Scully was a bullfrog_

_Was a good friend of mine_

_Never understood a single word she said_

_But I helped her drink her wine._

_And she always had some mighty fine wine._

"Chorus," she mumbled, both remembering Mulder's long-ago prompt as he once clung to her in the woods, shivering.

_Joy to the world_

_All the boys and girls_

_Joy to the fishies in the deep blue sea_

_Joy to you and me._


	4. Chapter 4

Will loathed being stuck at the youth center, and he was getting nervous that he'd be stuck in a limbo of foster care, bounced around with no real home. No one was answering his questions; there were many weird glances between people, things he picked up that he knew were secrets about him.

He also felt like somehow it was his fault Mom had died. Nick and the psychologist told him it wasn't, but that didn't make him feel much better.

A church in town held a meager funeral for her, and Will felt numb as the casket lowered in the ground. Everything had gotten so bad by the end.

The next day he went with Nick to the house to get the rest of the things he really wanted to keep – only a few things. He was scared to go inside at first, but Nick assured him everything would be okay. He went to his room and found what he was looking for. A box his dad had made him; a book he liked, a photo album. The rest of the house would be auctioned off. Will didn't care. The secret was already out that Mom was a drunk. He didn't tell anyone about the times she hit him. Now he had no idea what to expect.

All Will knew was, he didn't want to answer any more questions. The lady from Youth Services was the worst one. Gloria. She had a hairy mole on her chin. She tried telling him that he would be in a new home in a month or so with nice people – but he didn't want to go, so he knocked over his apple juice and ran out of the room. He didn't care. Maybe these new people were mean too. Maybe they drank a lot. Maybe they'd call him "Spooky" like the kids in class did. He really hated that.

"_Spooky Will," they'd taunt on the playground. While most kids in his class preferred to play kickball or frisbee, Will would sit on the sidelines and read, or take a magnifying glass and look at stuff up close and then draw what he saw in his little book. Sometimes his friend Jennie would sit with him and they'd talk. She was okay if her dumb girlfriends weren't around to egg her on. _

_So far, only Jennie had seen what was in it…written snippets of dialogue, highly detailed drawings of strange places – almost like pueblos – alien space ships – a strangely-shaped object. Will told Jennie he drew the things that popped in his head. The strangely-shaped object spun around, he said. Jennie remarked that it kind of looked like a mobile over her baby sister's crib._

"Can I see your sketchbook?" asked the Youth Services lady one day, with that fake-nice voice of hers.

"No," replied Will, politely but firmly. "It's private."

"I see." She looked blank. Just in case, he put it in his backpack.

"I'm sorry," continued Will, "but it's just drawings and stuff. Nothing interesting. I just don't want people reading it."

_Every afternoon at recess for the past year, Will would draw those pictures and write in his book. One day during an indoor recess, that mean girl Chrysta had gotten Jennie to steal it from his desk, and Will came back from the bathroom finding the class laughing at the pictures. Utter mortification. _

"_Give it back!" he shouted, too short to reach the tall girls' hands. They threw it back and forth around the classroom. Will pushed Chrysta into the wall and she laughed in his face. At that precise moment, the teacher returned and the whole class was thrown into time-out. Will didn't get his book back until the end of the day. It was awful, and Jennie's betrayal had shaken him to the core. She'd thrown away his trust. She later apologized, but Will didn't really want to talk to anyone._

The social workers described him as "withdrawn," "sullen," and "quick-tempered." Nick was the only guy who seemed okay, but he wasn't assigned to him every day. Will felt utterly alone. No one understood. He didn't want to cause trouble. It would just be better if he went away.

And then the awful day when the social workers told him the truth: that he was adopted. It upset him to the core. The social workers had said they'd located his biological parents, but Will figured, since they ditched him before, they must not have really wanted him in the first place. And if they stuck him with the Van de Kamps, they must not have loved him. His eleven-year-old reasoning could not wrap his head around the news. He just hurt inside.

That night, he decided he needed to get out of there. Run away from school. Run away from these jerks. He couldn't go back to his cave, but he did have a hundred dollars, so he'd just hop on the next bus and see where it took him. He snuck into the break room and stole snacks and a bagged lunch out of the fridge, threw it in his backpack with his crumpled drawings, and snuck away in the night.

Bus 42 arrived at 6:00 AM sharp: final destination, Salem, Massachusetts. Will got on the bus and left Pennsylvania behind him. He felt truly free for the first time.


	5. Chapter 5

As the Youth Services Bureau frantically searched the building for Will, Nick found a scrawled piece of paper inside his binder. Will's neat but childish handwriting, in a tidy paragraph.

_By the time you get this I will be gone. I am not in my cave so dont look there. They told me I was adopted. My real parents didn't want me when I was a baby so I don't want them now. I will be ok. Thank you for being my friend. Bye_

_Your friend, Will_

Nick looked at the letter over and over until the words blurred. This kid had no idea. He realized that the child services people and the psychologists were correct – Will WAS stubborn and petulant, but no wonder. He'd just had his entire life flipped upside down, and found out his origins in the most tactless way possible. These people were so incompetent. Now this child's life was potentially on the line. Eleven years old, all alone. Where the fuck could he have gone? He tried to put aside any visions of hitchhiking or kidnaping scenarios. Will was smarter than that. At least, he hoped so.

The police combed the surrounding woods all night. The search primarily went through Will's little cave. While they searched that evening, Nick took the opportunity to sneak into the director's office. He searched Will's records…and called the FBI director himself.

-o0o-

Later that night, Scully and Mulder were stretched out on the sofa watching monster movies on TCM when Skinner knocked at the door, unannounced, with a young man in his mid-twenties.

"Hi Skinner," said Scully. His unsmiling face and hands on her arms made her stomach lurch.

"Skinner? What brings you here?" asked Mulder, getting up. "Can we offer you anything?"

Skinner cleared his throat.

"Scully, Mulder. I have some bad news," he said brusquely. They paled. "William is missing."

"Missing?" Scully's voice began to take on that long-dormant tone of anguish. She began to pace back and forth.

"No, no, nothing like that…" said Nick, wondering why this woman was flipping out, "He left on his own accord. Mr. Skinner, can you please explain - who are these people?"

"William's biological parents."

"YOU are his parents. Ah yes, it makes more sense now." He nodded at Scully's hair.

"Skinner, would you mind explaining who THIS is?" asked Mulder, nodding toward Nick.

"This is one of William's social workers, Nick Freed," said Skinner. "He was off-duty last night," he warned, as Mulder's panic began to swell, "He found a note from William this morning and called me about it."

Nick handed Mulder the note. He studied it carefully. "Okay. What's been going on, Nick?"

Nick explained. The psychologists and social workers had been approaching the child all wrong, and Will was reacting appropriately to the typical bullshit.

"They told him point-blank he was adopted. Didn't even prepare him or anything. No tact, nothing. The poor kid has been a wreck."

Mulder and Scully looked at the letter. It explained the truth: the poor child was extremely distressed. Mulder and Scully tearfully explained to Nick the circumstances surrounding William's infancy. Nick's jaw dropped the entire time. He'd known some of the background from Karen, but hearing it from them made the story even more incredible.

Nick believed Will probably took a bus that morning. At least six had left between last night and this morning: two to Pittsburgh, one to Philadelphia, one to DC, one to New York state, and one to Massachusetts.

"We're going to have to check every bus line," mused Scully, tears forming. She kept thinking about all the awful possibilities of a child unattended in a city – any city.

"Maybe not," replied Mulder, his arm solidly around her. "Maybe he simply took the bus that was going the farthest away."

"Let's hope he took the Massachusetts bus," responded Skinner. "We will contact the driver to see if he was on that line this morning and where he got dropped off."

"Why on earth would there be a direct bus line to Salem?" asked Nick.

"Well…it's October. Probably a tourist line," said Mulder. "We used to take the train over to Salem when we were kids. It's their big month."

"What's….what's he like?" asked Scully, quietly.

"A nice little boy. Polite, kind of mature for his age. Really smart. Kind of a misfit at school. Really talented at…drawing….oh my god." Suddenly Nick looked over at the mantle. No. It couldn't be. That would be too strange.

Nick slowly walked over to the fireplace and picked up the photo of Scully, Mulder and William on that long-ago day on the sofa. He looked at it in disbelief. The three others watched in astonishment as Nick pulled the wrinkled drawing Will had given him out of his sweatshirt pocket, and laid the two next to each other on the kitchen table.

"Oh my god, Mulder. It's…it's us."

Skinner put his hand to his mouth.

"I've officially seen everything," he muttered.

-o0o-

Will hopped off the bus at Salem. It had been a long ride, almost ten hours. He was hungry. He had about $10 left after the bus fare, so he walked around town looking for a store or something to get a bite to eat.

He purchased a can of Coke, some Cheetos, and a cream-filled doughnut at a little grocery store, and sat placidly on a bench in the middle of the town square with his snack. Freedom was pretty good, he thought. No school, no bullies. No parents, no psychologists asking questions. No one yelling at him for eating junk food, although he had to admit he WAS feeling a little sick.

After he finished his lunch, Will wandered around town a little and found a cemetery. It had crazy skulls on the tombstones. Cool. He walked around, trying to read what some of the stones said. There were all sorts of visitors there. Salem was a neat town. He was glad he came.

He decided to walk around. The leaves were pretty. It was getting cold and he wasn't sure what he was going to do next. The harbor was very nice; he walked down to the docks and watched the boats from the pier. Someday he hoped he could ride one. Or better yet, sail off into the ocean and be a pirate.

He sat down on a pile of rope and began to draw in his notebook. He didn't notice the man come near him. He hovered over Will for a second.

"Hi."

The man shoved Will to the ground, grabbed his backpack, and began to tear off.

"HEY!" Will shouted. "Give me that back!"

The man ran too fast for Will's little legs. Suddenly, Will felt an indignant rage swell up inside his body. As he stopped to catch his breath, Will stared at the retreating figure with his backpack. He stared, stared, stared, anger rising.

The man suddenly lurched backward, out of his control, and nearly fell on his ass. Suddenly, to everyone on the street's horror, he was lifted into the air by some invisible force, shaken upside down. The backpack fell to the ground. The man hovered in the air for several seconds as Will calmly walked toward his backpack, picked it up, and walked back toward the downtown. As he walked away, the man dropped like a stone, scrambled to his feet, and tore off like crazy.

No one could believe what they had seen.

By nightfall, the story would make the local news.


	6. Chapter 6

All evening, Mulder had been searching for any kind of sign of found or missing children in New England, possibly fitting William's description. He rubbed his eyes and looked over at the sofa. Scully was laying down, her head on the arm of the sofa, having cried herself to sleep. Will's drawing of the family lay in her lap. He walked over to her and gently placed the drawing on the coffee table, and sat next to her. She stirred slightly at the movement, then settled herself comfortably with her head on his lap. He rubbed her shoulder.

"The nightmare never ends, Mulder," she mumbled. "Why couldn't we just have been two normal people with a kid? Whenever something good happens to us, something traumatic follows soon after."

"I know," replied Mulder softly. He had been thinking the same thing. All the two of them ever wanted was peace and happiness. Always, it had just been out of reach.

The TV flickered in front of them. TCM was airing a John Wayne retrospective that night, and he wasn't terribly interested. He absently flipped through the channels.

Suddenly the two of them sat up straight.

The late night news was airing a segment about a strange incident in Salem that afternoon.

STONER WITNESS:

"It was like a wicked cool…dream or…something, like this dude was flipping over in the sky and the kid walked right under him and got his backpack."

SOUR MIDDLE AGED LADY

"I saw a trick like it on David Blaine."

BUSINESSMAN

"I never saw anything like it. The man twirled in the air like a rotisserie chicken. There's no way there were wires or anything. It's like he was floating."

A small boy had appeared in Salem, levitated an attacker, and run off. Police had him in custody, in a small room. No one knew who he was or where he'd come from. Some shaky iPhone footage accompanied the graphics of a man floating in the air. A small child was walking away from the scene.

"All WE can say is, it's a real Halloween mystery!" chirped the reporter. "For WMAZ News, I'm Jane Rohrer."

Scully and Mulder looked at each other.

"Does that sound like our kid, Scully?"

Mulder and Scully were up like lightning. Scully called Skinner.

The child had caused quite a stir in the office. He was furious for being stuck in the white room. Rage boiled through Will for having his newfound, precious freedom stolen from him. He'd been having such a nice time until that creepy man took his backpack! And now he was stuck in another crappy room, with more crappy people, and not even Nick to talk to. The only good thing is that he got some pizza, even though it had olives. He hated olives!

In fact, anyone who came in to ask questions ended up faced with food and/or paper airplanes thrown at them. Officer Michaels got a faceful of ranch dressing. It was when things started swirling around the child like a small tornado that the entire office left the room and locked William in the observation room to keep from getting injured. A group of people stood behind the one-way mirror and watched in amazement. It was as if the child was willing everything to move like "Carrie."

The three agents showed up at the police station the next morning. They walked into the room and saw William in the middle of the room. His anger had subsided a bit, and he was sitting at the table, placidly eating pizza, sipping his root beer. Nothing miraculous…aside from the floating items by his head, waiting to be telepathically thrown at the next visitor.

Mulder, ever the psychologist, observed the child and listened to the officers' stories. It was hard for him to separate the wonder of seeing his own flesh and blood past infancy for the first time, and watching the child's behavior. His own child – an X-File.

Scully stood there with her hand to her mouth. It was amazing. All she'd seen him do as an infant – that mobile, for instance – she couldn't believe he could still do this. It defied all logic. She was quite terrified of her own child, but couldn't resist the urge to march in there and really be a mother.

"We're at a loss on what to do with him," said Officer Lake. "He's not a bad kid, but he's obviously aware of whatever power he has, and that it scares people."

"I believe he's distressed and feels like a caged animal, which…" said Mulder, eyeing the squad, "I can't blame him for, entirely."

"Well - we couldn't have him roaming the streets of Salem, either," retorted Officer Lake.

"I understand that," replied Mulder. "But we're not going to get anywhere with this child if he feels frightened. "There's got to be something out there that will calm him down. Maybe a trigger."

"A damn tranquilizer gun," muttered Officer Kent, munching on his third doughnut.

"I know what it is," said Nick, who had appeared in the doorway. He watched William for a minute and realized that he was the only one who knew what would make William calm down. Everyone else in the room stared at him.

"Mrs Mulder," he said, nodding toward Scully, "do you sing?"

"Jesus Christ, no!" replied Scully, scoffing at either the name or the very notion, no one was sure.

"You have a deep voice. Bear with me. Do you, by chance, know any old Three Dog Night songs?"

"Scully!" laughed Mulder, suddenly brightening.

"William is really into Three Dog Night," continued Nick. "When he first stayed with us he was singing that 'Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog' song over and over, but he sang it with his own name. He said a lady in a dream used to sing it to him."

Scully's eyes filled with tears and started laughing. This was ridiculous, wonderful, touching, absurd, sweet. Of course. She could no more believe this than she could watching her kid in the room, currently opening a pizza box just with his eyes.

"I used to sing it to him when I tried to get him to sleep," she laughed.

"She once sang it to get ME to sleep," said Mulder, laughing along. Scully and Mulder nearly broke into hysterics as the rest of the police sat around, confused.

"Well, maybe it'll work now," said Officer Lake. "Mrs. Mulder, can you sing that song into the mike and see if Will responds?"

Scully winced. In front of all these people? Mulder walked over to her and rubbed her shoulders.

"Try it," said Skinner, chuckling.

Scully touched the button to the room intercom and started singing.

_William was a bullfrog_

_Was a good friend of mine…_

Will perked up his head, his mouth full of pizza. A big smile came over his face as he heard the singing.

Everyone else in the room put their hands over their ears. Scully continued.

_Never understood a single word he said_

_But I helped him eat his pizza._

_And I hope it has double-meatza._

Will got up in complete confusion, but he wasn't scared. In fact, he felt calmer than he ever had before. He had no idea where the singing was coming from, but it was the voice of The Dream Lady. Right there. In the room with him.

Suddenly the door opened and there they were. The lady and man from his dream. Right there. They looked a little different, but it was them. He stood there for a minute, in shock.

"You have any of that left?" deadpanned Mulder. "I'm starving."

"It's you!" Will gasped.

"Sweetheart. Do you have any idea how long we've been searching for you?" asked Scully, shaking her head.

Will stared, incredulously, as if Scully and Mulder were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen in his life. Unfamiliar and familiar suddenly there, in this weird room, 10 hours from his old life. "I…I know you. But I don't know how."

Mulder held up Will's drawing of the family on the sofa and smiled sweetly as his child's face softened. Tears welled in his eyes.

"You're the baby in the picture, Will. Didn't you know?" he choked.

Will's face finally registered some recognition. "You? …You gave me away?"

"We had no choice – you were in danger," said Scully. "We wanted you to have a normal life."

Will stared at her, unsure what to do at first. He studied Scully's face intensely for a second, those mini Mulder eyes piercing through her, melting her heart. Suddenly the young boy wrapped himself around both of them. They crouched down to meet him and wrapped him up in a bear hug.

"We've missed you so much," said Mulder, kissing him on top of his head. "So very much."

"I have nowhere to go," said William. "I don't even know why I came here. I had to get away."

"We have a place for you, if you'd like to live with us," said Scully. "We live near here, in Rhode Island. A nice place to play, big woods, right by the sea."

"I'd like that," said Will firmly, sniffling. "I don't like Pennsylvania."

"Neither do I, but that mostly has to do with inbreeding," replied Mulder drolly. "Come on, Will. We want to introduce you to your uncle Walter. He's a great guy. And you'll never guess who he knows."

"Who?"

"Your friend Nick."

Skinner smiled and nodded at the rest of the Salem police force. He and Nick walked out toward the hallway to meet them in a few minutes.

Will packed up his bag, and the family walked out of the interrogation room hand-in-hand, each triumphantly eating a slice of pizza with the olives scraped off.


End file.
